


Cold

by pulangaraw



Category: due South
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-07
Updated: 2009-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulangaraw/pseuds/pulangaraw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

When Ray wakes, the room is freezing cold. He shivers and gets up, pulling the blanket tight around himself. He can't even see out the window because the glass is frosted over. He stands there for a while and stares blankly at the milky pane, waiting for nothing in particular.

Eventually he slips a hand out from underneath the blanket and presses it against the glass. It's as cold as it looks, but he doesn't pull away. He remembers doing this when he was a kid in the car, drawing faces and writing rude words which he quickly wiped out again before his mother could see them.

He doesn't have anything to write now. There's just his hand pressed against the window, and when he pulls it away the warmth of his body has melted some of the ice and he can see the sky outside. It's cloudy, with patches of blue. The promise of a good day.

He presses his cold hand against his cheek and remembers the last time Fraser touched him. His fingers had been just as cold. It had only been a fleeting touch, the tips of his fingers ghosting over Ray's cheek. Barely noticeable and yet burning Ray's skin like cold fire.

He draws in a deep breath, the cold air almost painful in his lungs. He shouldn't think about this, this isn't moving on. He promised Fraser that he wouldn't dwell. He promised Ben that he'd move on.

_Live_, Ben had said, and Ray had nodded and swallowed around the lump in his throat. He hadn't replied because all he could think of was _I don't know how_. Fraser had looked so pale amidst the white of the hospital sheets, like he was slowly fading away. Nothing like the Fraser he remembered from only months ago, radiating warmth and life amidst the white of snow.

Ray leans forward and rests his head against the glass, and the sudden coldness against his forehead pulls him back into the present. He stays like that for a moment, his breath thawing another window into the ice. The sun is rising on the horizon, the beginning of a new day. He takes a deep breath, straightens and drops the blanket onto the bed. It's time to get dressed. Time to move on.

Time to keep living.


End file.
